Everlong 2
by Sam-Chan and Jason-Kun
Summary: The request sequel to the request fic, Everlong.
1. Chapter 1

**Sam-Chan: **This is the request sequel to the Superman request fic (**Everlong**). I hope y'all like it.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Superman.

* * *

They've gone a long way.

_And now_. Clark thinks with a small smile. _They were going to be on their "Honeymoon" tomorrow night. Just sitting by the beach, relaxing. Looking up at the beautiful stars. Soaking in the peac e and quiet while taking a nice, long, hot bath..._

"-And, we could have sex on the beach! Maybe up against the wall, or in the kitchen! What do you think, dad?"

Clark blushed. "J-Jason, does everything always have to be about sex?"

"Yes, and no," he answered with a grin. "But you're so 'adorkable' that I can't help but tease you on things like this as much as possible."

And again, Clark blushed, though, he shook his head this time. "Are you sure we're related?"

"Oh, dad," Jason laughed. "You know I take after more of mom's side!"

"I believe you're right." Clark said, laughing as well.

"So, speaking of sex, dad, let's do it!"

"Jason-"

"Come on, it's not like one of us will get pregnant or something!"

"Well, Jason, it's not about that-"

Jason wraps his arms around Clark from behind and whispers in his ear. "And, you know we're still both pretty youthful. Little Clark knows that too," Jason's hand creeps closer to Clark's half-aroused appendage, and Clark can't help but squirm a bit. "Doesn't he?"

"J-Jase, _aahh-ahhh,_ you know when you do that, _nrghhhh-ahhhh_."

The younger man smirks. "What was that, dad? I couldn't hear you."

"J-Jase —_ahhhh, h-ahhhh_— st —_nrghh, h-ahhhh! mmmhh_— st-stop."

"You don't want me to." Jason replied, continuing to stroke off his father through his bath-robe. He was right. Clark did very much want him to continue —_but, only after he tempted me!_ The superman's brain shouted to itself—but, couldn't exactly bring himself to say such a thing.

"A-aahhh," Clark found himself moaning once more. Why was his son so good at this again? Oh, yeah, _lots _and _lots _of 'practice'. "Jason...!"

"Yes, _daddy_?" his son answered huskily, the younger male's hands roaming around with lust.

"P-please, more..."

"I can't hear, you." was the taunting reply.

"Jason, p-please. Jase, pl-please, _ahhhh_..."

"_Anything_ for you, dad."

"P-please...!"

"Since you asked nicely," Jason smiled as his father signed in helpless relief.

Though, the younger man did not relieve his father so quickly, instead drawing him into a kiss, and doing his absolute best to guide them to the couch, without getting too lost in the moment. He succeeded and soon, he and his father were stripping down to their muscular nude forms, letting their eyes wander as if this was the first time they had witnessed such lusty bodies.

Jason stopped teasing his dad for a second and looked to the pile of clothes on the living room floor, trying to find his pants. Once he did, he flipped them over to the back side a took a bottle of lube out the left back pocket, and began coating his fingers with it. Clark only rolled his eyes and wondered when his son began so lewd, but as well braced himself for the pain about to come. It did, but pasted very quickly (which Clark thought was from his son's "unhealthy sex drive"), and soon he felt the tip of his son's appendage at his entrance.

"Hold on, Dad. It's comin' in."

Clark couldn't answer, for his son was now stretching him out with his erect cock, while he himself strained at the tiny sting that came when he bottomed. Though, soon he found his body enjoying itself, and accepting his son's hard erection inside of him. His breath quicken, his pants were lustful and his expression was erotic, to the point Jason thought he could watch he dad look like that all day long. And before he knew it, the words had already slipped from his lips.

"You look so beautiful when we're making-love, Dad!"

"J-Jase! St-stop i-it!" Clark's blush didn't do much good for his presently rosy face, and his son's words were making things all the more embarrassing for him (especially since he used that _phrase_, which one might only hear in a manga-styled porno).

Jason only smiled at the muscular male beneath him, and played with his father's body once more (which Clark didn't think was too fair, since his son seemed to know _all_ his sexual weaknesses, and adding that to the current pleasure given to him, he would lose all control).

"_H-hmm, ough-hh... Ah, ahhh, mmmph..._!"

"Dad, you're so tight! Dad, _h-ahh_..."

"_J-Jason, uhhhnn, h-hahhh, a-ahhh..._"

"Yes, Dad —_nghhhhh, h-hahhh_— scream. Scream for me, Dad. Please, Dad, let out your voice for me."

And he did. He screamed loudly in pleasure in the beach house they were renting for their honeymoon, his breath hitched, expressions erotic and body lustful, which Jason thought he'd never want to see Clark looking in any other way. On the other hand, the older man felt hazy, only able to hear the groans, moans, grunts, and the slapping of flesh in the room. They were driving him wild, and-!

And he cried out, shooting his load all over himself, the couch, and Jason. At that, he heard Jason laugh (but it was short-lived, as the younger male shot his load right after).

"Jason." Clark said, out of breath.

"Yeah, Dad?" Jason answered.

"You can, y'know...come _out_ now. Like, you can...come _out of me_ now, okay."

"A little longer, Dad —please! You know your ass feels amazing on my dick."

For the hundredth time that day (he suspected) the older man blushed. "Jason!"

"Love you too, babe," was his son's reply and the younger male began thrusting again.

"J-Jason...! _U-ughhhh! J-Jason..!_ _A-ahhhh...!_"

And they continued this way for about an hour more.

Afterward, they found themselves in the king-sized bed, showered and nude (well, Clark still had on a big tee-shirt, but most would suspect it didn't do much), and ready to sleep of course —at least Clark was.

"Ughhhhh, Jase, you've really got to do something to calm down your sex-drive." Clark complained, scooting away from his son's hands. He was going to sleep, and that meant especially, no perverted or erotic touching with it's time to sleep.

"I am, dad," he answered. "That 'something' is someone: You!"

Clark groaned and playfully threw a pillow at his son. "Stop it. Stop it right now," he said good-naturedly, but still in a tired, slightly muffled groan.

"Come on, dad, I know you'll see it my way."

"Hmmph," Clark raised his face from the pillow. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you love me."

"True. Very true. But, I'm also your dad —and I'm pretty sure I can ground you from sex, or something."

"You? Ha! No offense dad, but —you're a softie!"

"Am I, huh? So, I suppose you're really going to take that chance and have too use your hand to find release for the next month or so, hmm?"

"Ouch! Okay, okay. You win," (_for now_. He thought to himself). "I'll take some suggestions now, please."

"Ummm, uhhh, well...I...ummm," but Clark went silent before he could say anything more. He hadn't any suggestions of any sort! And, finding that out, made a smile curl up on his son's face. A grand, mischievous, smile.

"Yes, _daddy_." Jason replied, kissing the older man on the lips, and teasingly sliding his tongue on the soft, reddish-pink things.

"U-uhhhh, I..."

"Come on, Dad, why don't we go another round and see if it jogs some memories of our wedding night, _hmm_?"

"_A-ahhh._..! J-Jason...!"

Now, (after about more than five rounds of sex) Clark flopped down on the bed once more, and sighed tiredly.

"What's that I hear —does dad want to go another round?"

Clark through a pillow at him. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Ughhhh... Go. To. Bed. Now. Homework. In. Morning. School. Your test." Clark said, his voice muffled once more underneath his pillow.

"We're on a Honeymoon, dad."

"Well, I'm tired. And, I have superhero work in the morning so," he kissed his son softly on the forehead. "_Goodnight_."

"G'night, dad."

Clark went straight to sleep as his son replied, but Jason stayed up, wondering and doubting some things —wondering why some growing doubt in his mind kept becoming clearer. Wondering why his past and its hauntings chose to make themselves known at that hour. And wondering whether or not an old friend, would soon turn into an enemy.

At about the same time, though, it seems, far, far away, the unidentified someone was thinking the same thing —or at least partially the same thing.

"Married! What do you mean, he's 'married'?" a deep voice boomed harshly.

The human bound up on the floor in front of the owner of the cruel voice answered timidly. "Exactly what I s-sa-said, sir —Jason White is m-m-ma-married."

"How could this be possible?" the cruel voice questioned in a calm fashion. Anyone who had been around the merciless being would know that was only a warning of the real storm ready to unleash itself upon the nearest victim. It meant one should _shut up_ if they wanted to keep their life and sanity.

Apparently, this cowardly human quivering in terror on the floor _didn't_.

"I already told you —I married him to his beloved. But, spare me, sir! I hadn't the singlest of clue! And I shan't tell anyone about you threatening me! Please, sir! Let me go!"

Lying a bit about your part in the situation, was also _very_ vital.

"Quiet," came the cruel reply. "Stop your pathetic begging —you'll get what you deserve later. For now, tell me about this person he married."

The scared-to-death man had no other choice but to tell him exactly what he wanted. "A true gentleman, is how to label him, sir. I have seen no spouse treat their lover so kindly. So well-mannered, though, he's as innocent as a school-child, blushing at every crude comment his beloved makes."

Though, by this time, the man had broken too many rules to count, and was very well on the pathway of his demise.

"I _don't_ care. _Who_ is he?"

"Who is he? Who _is_ he? Darkseid, sir, why, he's Superman!"

"What," Darkseid thundered —for now, ignoring the fact that the human used his actual name. "Superman? My enemy."

"And the boy's father," he stated as a matter of fact.

"This cannot be," Darkseid raged. "No. This _will not _be."

"But it is, my lord."

"Yes," the villain chuckled. "It is —but it will be no more."

"How do you plan on managing that, if I may ask."

"Simple. Someone will have to die," _and it will not be me._

"Okay, oh, Mighty One," the man stuttered. "I guess I'll be going now..."

At this, Darkseid grinned evilly at the poor big-mouthed human. "No."

"No? What? I thought-"

"You _thought_ wrong, human-"

"But! I-"

"No witnesses."

And with that, a swift and sharp motion was heard, and the human's head fell to the ground.

The villain chuckled as other thoughts filled his head (particularly of Jason White), draining out the smell of death and all that comes with it. "I'm coming for you, Jason. You _are_ mine."

—

About two months later, Clark found himself back in his usual tiring schedule (and was very much looking forward to going home to see his beloved). He sighed in relief when he came up to his and his son's house, and wasting no time letting himself in —while thinking that, Clark also had no clue how Batman could keep up with this amount of work, and _still _be ready for more crime-fighting. Batman truly was one of the most amazing superhero allies he knew.

"Jase, I'm home." Clark said, smiling as he closed and locked the door to their house (as best as he could with a bag of Chinese Food in his left hand).

"Hey, dad," Jason greeted from upstairs. "Sup?"

"The usual, son. I also brought Chinese food."

"I know," Jason smiled as he came downstairs. "I have 'super smelling power'."

Clark laughed. "Oh, really?"

"Yep." Jason replied, putting the food on the kitchen counter and unloading the big bag. It had all their favorites (as you might expect), Brown rice, crab rangoon (though it was actually made out of chicken), egg-rolls, Polynesian sauce, fried chicken, fried vegetables, soy-sauce and duck-sauce, sweet and sour chicken and etc... (all of which were Jason's favorites).

"Jase, sit down," Clark smiled softly at him. "Enjoy."

"Okay." Jason replied, smiling back.

"Hey, Jase, what do you want to drink?"

"_You_,"

"Jase!"

"Okay," Jason laughed lightly. "How 'bout Pepsi?"

"Coming right up!"

"You know what else will be coming right up-"

"Jase!"

_Hehehe. Dad's so cute_. "Okay, okay. I'll stop."

"Thank you." Clark said, handing his son a glass of Pepsi, then leaning over to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. He then sat down in the chair next to his lover, and the two began to eat. The conversation was pretty simple —work, school, villains, crime-fighting, "How come Batman seems to never get tired?" and etc.— and the food was delicious, and soon, both were pretty much finished.

_Perfect timing_. Jason thought to himself. The teen walked over to the kitchen sink, where his father was doing the dishes, and wrapped his arms around the older man, planting lusty kisses over the exposed skin shown.

"Jase, I'm-"

"C'mon, Dad, _just fuck me. Please_."

And Clark wanted to say no. He really did.

_But_...

"Dad. Daddy, _please, fuck_..."

Clark laid down the dish he was washing, rinsed his hands, and promptly turned around and scoped up his son bridal style, carrying him to their bedroom.

"Mmmh, Dad. You're pretty excited." Jason teased, tracing his father's chest.

"Your fault," was the older man's answer. "You owe me, y'know."

"Yes, Daddy." Jason said sweetly, (though at the same moment his mind was screaming particularly dirty things to itself).

They promptly began to strip each other, letting their hands idly roam around presently exposed flesh, while lips felt hot on their skin. Their playing then ceased as Jason became impatient, and expressed such an emotion openly.

His father only rolled his eyes and tugged off the teen's pants.

"No underwear?"

"I plan to have sex for a long while during my years of life." Jason answered while his father used all the self-control he had to stop himself from lecturing his son. Clark Kent remembered almost all the speeches his adoptive parents said to him—he never once took them lightly— and was raised a bit prudish but, it gave him certain standards that he would not go against (normally). Jason, had changed up that equation a lot, but Clark never stopped being Clark—he was sure of that.

Clumsy, good-natured, slightly prudish, helpful...Clark.

"Dad? Hello? What's happening up there?"

"Oh—sorry, Jason," he apologized. "I...I was thinking a little. Sorry."

"Well, I already stretched myself out, just so you know."

His father nodded.

"You know, I finger myself sometimes," Jason said casually. "Especially when I think about-"

"J-Jase!" Clark sputtered, embarrassed (and blushing hard as always).

"It's true."

"That d-does not mean you have too voice such things!"

"Okay, okay. But, Dad, let's fuck already, OK."

Still slightly embarressed, Clark nodded, lubricated his appendage and began penetrating his son—stopping, of course, as the occasional hisses of pain and such. Soon freezing completely, waiting for his son to get used to his length. He hoped he wasn't hurt his son. He really hoped-

"You can move now. I'm okay, Dad."

"Are you sure, son? I-"

"You're acting like a virgin—just fuck me."

And so Clark did.

"H-holy shit! There, D-dad!"

He was lucky, and the teen underneath him began experiencing pleasure rather quickly—bringing them both back into the mood.

Sex was dominant in the room, with the action clogging up the air and screaming motivation in the ears of the two men who felt close to their releases at the moment.

"D-Dad!"

"J-Jase!"

They did not come a minute to soon, (with the duo reaching their orgasms, they abruptly got up, took a shower, changed the sheets and went back downstairs—with the first three of the things afterwards established by Clark immediately, and the last one brought out when he asked Jason if he had finished his homework).

When the homework was finished, their made their way back to their room—the two now shared a room, with Jason's old room presently working as a guest room. The two currently laid in their warm, comfy bed, making small talk every once in a while.

"Jase."

"Yeah, Dad?"

"If there's anything bothering you —anything at all— you know you can come to me and we can talk about it, okay."

"Um...Sure, Dad." the younger man answered, barely swallowing his saliva (as he was very much nervous at this point). He wondered if he could tell his dad about...No! Nope! It was _okay_. Everything was _fine_. Everything was alright.

And with that, they cuddled.

Well, Jason cuddled.

Clark was already asleep.

The next day was pretty much normal, except that Jason couldn't keep himself from worrying —scratch that. That was the very thing he did all that day, to the point that he couldn't concentrate on school and such, which concerned those around him quite a lot.

It didn't get any better at home, with Clark Kent—as Superman, of course— being worked overtime with the crime rate in the city going higher. The man now immediately slept when he got home—often not eating nor mentioning Jason's homework (not that the teen would mind _so _much about that).

Still, even with news as amusing as that, Jason was very much alone in his suspicions and fears. He couldn't tell anyone about who he believed killed that man. Even if he did—it couldn't be real, right? _He_ was not actually _here_. Jason was positive on that.

Maybe, not that positive on it.

Maybe not positive at all on the situation.

Maybe-

Maybe he needed to stop getting himself worried and worked-up. It could have been an accident. The man could have slipped and fallen, or committed suicide or...

Or he was right.

No! As much as he loved to be right, he really hoped he wasn't correct this time.

He was practically pleading for such a thing.

"Jason! Hey, are you okay?" one of his friends shouted out to him.

And that was the first and only time Jason did not notice the pairs of eyes watching him.

—

About a week later, however, Jason _knew_ he was being followed. He suspected it just to be some of Darkseid's lackeys, but these must of been experts, since sometimes he barely even noticed them —but _they _were there_. _He_ knew_ they were_._

Or he didn't, and just needed to take a break from this whole business. He wasn't Sherlock Holmes, nor Nancy Drew, and could very well take care and manage not to act like them. Either way, he wouldn't be able to keep his whole focus on the "mystery", as he had a paper on Henry Morgan, François l'Olonnais, Laurens de Graaf and Rok Brasiliano to do. The two subjects were competing fiercely in his head for the top spot—but, one could daresay, that as Jason wasn't at all that fond of pirates, his fear and detailed thoughts were "winning", the game in his mind.

Surprisingly, this phase of paranoia didn't encourage him to be more careful, but rather he became unintentionally reckless, with most of his mind giving itself over to his thoughts instead of actual actions. This led him down a literal path of a illusion of safety—as safe as an alley can look.

Before the teen knew it, the eyes he was on the borderline of obsessing over came out—connected to full...bodies—and trapped him. At around this time, he _did_ come back to his senses, and struggled as much as he could against his prison, however, it apparently was too strong for even him.

How was that possible? The only place you could get things like that were-

No. No. He was not going to think about it. _He_ was not here. Exactly.

"He doesn't know." said a raspy voice.

"No, he doesn't."

The low raspy voices startled Jason, but he answered nevertheless. "Doesn't know what?"

"What is to come." one answered.

"What will soon be." said the other.

"I don't understand this—tell me what you meet!" and he was telling the truth. He truly didn't understand such cryptic speech, (though, he couldn't deny the bad feeling he knew was looming over him).

_Crash_.

_What was that?_ He asked himself. Though, no apparent answered could figure things out.

"The Master is back."

"Yes, the Master is back. To claim the price we now have—the boy."

And the two not-so-visible beings began to drag Jason away.

"What the —let go of me!" Jason yelled, on the edge of just giving up and using his super strength, but when beginning to try, he felt drained! Something was very different about this trap —but that would be impossible! Again, no one on earth had those type of materials (and wasn't in prison)! Unless it was...

A deep, horrid chuckle ripped through the air, and the young man's eyes opened wide with realization (and a bit of fright), was it —no! It couldn't be! It couldn't be him! It just couldn't!

But, it was.

And the villain now looked in his direction and smiled at him, saying:

"Hello, _my dear Jason_."

His vision faded and he felt himself forced into sleep.

* * *

**Sam-Chan:** Well, this is part one! What do you guys think? And yes, that is the sort of Chinese food my family gets at Bamboo Garden XD I've been craving some of it, so I thought I might as well let Clarky and Jase enjoy it!

And yes, I made the sex scene a lot more bara-manga-style than I normally would. I've been reading lots of manga lately and it's been trying to make its way into my writing, so...

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Sam-Chan:** Part two is up! And, for a small warning, this has a slightly underaged person attracted to, um...a disguised-as-an-old-man Darkseid. So yeah, you've been warned.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Superman.

* * *

_It's not so dark anymore_.

That's what Jason thinks as the blindfold is slightly loosened around his eyes, and he gains the ability to see (but to a small amount). He doesn't dare turn his head —or move at all. He need not start being tortured right away, right? He needed to think of an escape plan—

_H-huh? What the?_

He hears something. He hears a deep, gruff voice that booms all around the room. That voice...It sounds familiar. A lot like-

"Commander Darkseid, sir."

_What?_

"Yes." the gruff, raw voice answered the scared lackey, who was trying his very best not to act up in fear, (which meant punishment).

It couldn't be.

But the orders being thrown around here and there along with a lack of pity mixed with charismatic, but no-nonsense tone proved his theory otherwise. It was Darkseid.

"Yes, Commander, sir."

It really was; all the events that led up to this were most likely part of the villain's plan. He felt like groaning, but knew he shouldn't, for it was much better to let his captor's think he was unconscious—well, it usually was. He wished so, though this wasn't a usual circumstance. Nothing really was normal anymore, he could point out—it wouldn't help, however. The thing that could was to come up with a plan, a way to escape.

Still, one thing kept nagging in the back of his head, gnawing its way towards the front: Why was Darkseid doing this? Revenge? Probably. Though, why now? Why not earlier when 'the pain was still fresh'? How did it amount to that guy (who married him and his dad off) to be pin to the wall of an alley, eyes gorged out, fingers and toes chopped off, head shaved, ripped open in the back; with all organs and some muscles taken out.

He was somewhat glad that the police hadn't found out about it—for reasons, selfish as selfish could be—and that instead, a gang had (letting word get around without his father knowing). Sure, the superhero would eventually find out, but hopefully, not before Jason found out why. For that and everything else.

His mind was as distracted as ever, and as he laid still he began to regain control over it once more and thought back to when he first met his captor, praying he might find a clue in to why this would happen now, if anything.

Jason remembers him. He remembers him from a distant past. From a distant, blurry past that show a even more so blurry version of himself. A person who was hurt, mischievous, defiant, anti-social...horrid. That person wanted to die—he wanted to make sure everyone paid a price.

They all had to pay —he suffered because of them. He was drowning because of the waves of rejection at him —not Richard, nor Brainy's love for their troubled family member could do much in comparison to the extreme judgments the world and its people brought upon the boy.

But atlas, there came a savior —a savior for him! Who defeated all the nightmares, broke all the bullies, wrapped a shielding blanket around him. This savior, did more than Richard, Brainy, Lois (respectively), and Clark (his far-away, unknowing father) could do combine. He was all Jason had ever wanted —and his name was...

His name was Darkseid.

He remembers the day he met him. He remembers it well, and though, sometimes he wishes he could forget, there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to reject it —it was a part of him. Darkseid had healed him, in this world of temporary flesh and bone hurting flesh and bone of the same kind.

Everything thing he left, and taught him still rambles in his head.

"Jason, I see you —the real you. I see you, and the stars can't wait for you to see yourself as they see you. Way up above, in the darkest of skies, they spot you, wonder in awe, of ways they could come down to earth and snatch you from this existence that ails you so."

And he would look up at the taller, older male with wide, surprised eyes, and a mouth hanging open at his words, wondering if they were really true —then asking aloud, right after.

"Really?"

"Really, Jas. I mean it."

It pains him a bit to know that Darkseid may or may not have really had meant it. That he may have pretended to believe wholeheartedly in that theory or may have not. That he still took the time to tell Jason such a thing —and love him. Cherish him. But, Darkseid is gone. He will never come back. He doesn't care, and neither will Jason. Clark is his one and only, and is more than Darkseid ever was (and will be).

He'd scoff and scold his mind at the moment, for the childish words he thought, but of course, now was not the time to.

He would excuse himself for now—maybe he was still childish, impulsive and foolish— he _did_ dig up memories of a middle-schooler's. His memories, but of a part of him that he hoped wouldn't exist again.

If he did happen to come to that point, he couldn't come back to this past, for (as he reminds himself) he's not the same person he was before, and would most likely try harder to achieve happiness again.

He wouldn't be as stupid as the person Darkseid had been 'attracted' to. That person was broken, rejected, angry, hated, spiteful, violent. A troubled kid trying to find his place in the world that kept denying his existence. And Darkseid...enjoyed that person. He loved that person. He wanted to make that person more. To bring out the darkness within, blend it with anger and spitefulness, then clash it with rejection and hatred, to give it an extra push towards violence, brokenness and very close in the clutches of insanity.

He remembered the first time very clearly.

"Jas," he had said, holding the man against the wall. "Get it your best shot. C'mon, Jas show 'em whose in charge!"

"Dark, are sure?" he remembers answering, eyes wide but mouth grim.

"Jas, of course I'm sure. It's you —you should be sure of yourself, 'cause, hell, I know I'm sure."

And so, with a burst of lazy confidence given to him by the alien's small side smile...he did it. The first punch being weak, the second harder, the third harder, the fourth —the man slumped down and Darkseid let go of him. The heavy-set, slightly battered man grunted and got up, running towards a calm Jason, who promptly beat him up, leaving the man on the ground, half-alive.

Oh, how he was praised. Yes—how it fueled him and filled his ego! Bringing everyone else to their knees.

"Thanks, Dark."

"Anytime."

Anytime, turned into multiple times. Multiple times turned into every other day, when he didn't have to go to ISS or was closely watched by Brainy.

"Sony? Are you there?"

"I'm here, Dark."

"Well, I've something to tell you."

"What?"

"Something I never believed I would ever say... Especially to an earthling child."

"What?"

"I...love...you...Jason."

"I..." was all that came out of the child's mouth

Though, maybe he was just a hurt, naïve kid looking for acceptance. The thing that really brought the thought home, was when Darkseid told him who he really was.

He remembers the day clearly. It was early October—the tenth, actually—and the weather wasn't too chilly, though one did have too wear a jacket.

Darkseid was in his disguise and he, of course, didn't look out of the ordinary. He, himself, had on a long sleeved shirt with a vest, and was jolly well ready to get over the cold that plagued him so; forcing him to carry tissues wherever he went.

"I'm not from here, Jason."

"I can clearly see that, you know."

"No, I mean, I'm not from this planet."

"Oh, really... Where's your proof?"

Sometimes, Jason wished he didn't ask such a question. Though, that was the past, which couldn't exactly be rewritten—unless you had some divine right to do such a thing.

Jason remembered how the supposed grown human man had taken off his skin and showed his pride and glory to the middle-schooler, who could not very well deny it turned him on. He was promptly explained to and asked to clear such information a secret. Of course, he did, and the cycle of violence and unresolved pain and lust continued.

It went on until one day, he found himself facing some man...a man who looked like a grown up boy-scout dressing-up as business man, but very well failing to pull off the look.

That man was...his _father_.

Oh, how he was shocked; hurt; angry; _happy_...

The man had been smiling nervously, and he had wondered why his mother had fallen for a rather dorky-looking man.

One he never knew he would end up marrying.

The man was kind, and took him in right away, much to Richard's surprise and partial relief.

A few months later, on the day after his graduation from middle-school, he moved in with the dork that, happened to be called Clark.

"Desaad!"

A slightly nervous, but still quite calm voice answered the villain's booming call. "Yes, Commander Darkseid?"

"Wake up my Earthling Prince."

"As you wish, Commander."

_Oh, shit... _

_Well, so much for that_, Jason thought as he prepared for the worst.

The absolute worst.

* * *

**Sam-Chan:** Well, this chapter was a bit short...


End file.
